Lest We Forget
by Sable Supernova
Summary: The Second Wizarding War claimed many as its victim. The dead should be remembered not as the dead, but as they were, alive and at their best. A series of short-one shots written to honour the fallen, lest we forget.
1. Lest We Forget - Cedric

A/N: While I know this story isn't long, and doesn't have much in the way of plot, that isn't the point of it. This was written to show Cedric Diggory at his best: showing his loyalty, determination and overruling sense of fairness. Anyway, I hope you like it.

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 **Cedric Diggory: Quidditch Captain**

When Cedric Diggory was made Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, he wasn't sure he'd ever been happier. The day he received the news, he begged his father to take him down to Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley, and by lunch time, his father relented. Armed with his new leather gauntlets and four books on tactics, he spent the final days of his summer holiday pouring over the tomes and devising strategies for the year.

He arrived at Hogwarts to be swiftly greeted by the news of the Quidditch Captains of the other houses, and not a single name surprised him. Marcus Flint didn't always play strictly by the rules, but he was unflinchingly competitive, which often gave his team an edge. Oliver Wood had captained the Gryffindor Team for so long, Cedric wondered how they would cope next year without him.

By the time the day for Hufflepuff tryouts arrived, Cedric had a plan so meticulously worked out, he didn't envision anything going wrong. While as Captain, he knew his position as Seeker was secure, he wanted to offer a fair opportunity to everyone else who wanted a place. He'd devised a points-based scoring system for how well every individual performed, meaning his friends and old teammates were no more or less likely to earn their places than any other members of the team.

It had been working well, so far. His old friend Herbert Fleet had vastly outshone the other would-be Keepers, securing his old position. Tamsin Applebee had fared the same as Chaser, and was joined by the two new recruits, Heidi MacAvoy and Malcom Preece. With just the two Beater positions left to fill, Cedric was feeling quite smug.

The test he'd created for the six hopeful Beaters was fairly simple: it involved magically floating targets that danced around the pitch, mimicking the movements of Chasers and three Bludgers. For ten minutes, the six players would be given free range over the pitch as they attempted to hit the Bludgers at the targets. The two players who hit the most Bludgers with the most accuracy would win the positions.

As soon as the ten minutes were up, Cedric's problem became apparent. Three of the six had scored fairly poorly, but the other three had somehow managed to score _exactly the same_. Cursing his metric for failing him, he gently let the first three go and stood staring at the hopeful faces of the three left waiting. He swallowed as he thought, unsure how to deal with the situation. Maxine O'Flaherty, Anthony Rickett and Michael McManus all looked at him, eagerly, and tension began to ride high.

When the idea struck him, he smiled a little, and cleared his throat to speak.

"The three of you, somehow, all managed to score exactly the same, at 43. That means that as far as you've performed today, you're equally matched, and I wouldn't feel comfortable sending any one of you home. Now, we play three matches a year, which means over the course of the year, there are six opportunities for a Beater to play. So I would like to offer the chance to play on our team, sharing the load evenly and playing two matches each. How does that sound to you?"

As smiles surrounded him and the three players nodded in agreement, Cedric knew he'd played fair.


	2. Lest We Forget - Albus

**A/N: Like the first chapter, this one shows Dumbledore in his prime. The idea was that Dumbledore had been misguided in his own youth, which was part of the reason he became a teacher - to pass on the lessons he'd learnt himself and show young people the right direction when their path was clouded. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Albus Dumbledore: Headmaster**

"This is becoming somewhat of a regular occurrence. Perhaps I should start scheduling it in to my diary?" Dumbledore commented, looking over the rim of his half-moon spectacles as he took in the four boys in front of him, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

James and Sirius gave a sheepish grin, while Peter and Remus remained wide-eyed in fear of punishment. They weren't much like boys now, Dumbledore mused, taking in how much they had grown since his first meetings with them. They would be leaving Hogwarts in a few short months, ready to step foot into the world as free men. Dumbledore felt a twinge of sadness as he considered exactly what they would be walking into. While Dumbledore could name and claim to know the majority of his students, there weren't many, through the years, that had fascinated him as much as these four boys. There was something unwavering about them, and Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder how much easier their lives would have been in another decade. The war had defined Sirius, as he had eagerly allowed it to. It had shattered James' perfect family, in many ways it had forced him to grow up young. It had made the fight for the rights of people like Remus slow down, and in some cases, take a complete turn around. The war had frightened Peter to withdraw into himself, to not step over the line too far for fear of serious repercussions. it had taught the boy how to blend into the furniture.

"I'm on the edge of my seat with impatience to hear your story. I'm sure you have a delightful explanation," Dumbledore told the boys, before waiting for them to begin.

"We have an explanation, Sir, but it isn't a story. It's the truth," James began, his Gryffindor pride brimming in the hardness of his expression. James was nothing if not set in his beliefs.

"Avery and Mulciber were attacking two second years, Sir. They called them Mudbloods before hexing them in the corridor," Sirius added, desperate to prove himself on the side of the war he had chosen, so many years ago now.

"There were a lot of witnesses, Sir, and no one else was doing anything to help the kids," Remus added, providing justification and an alibi. Dumbledore considered for a moment that the werewolf might make an excellent defence lawyer.

"James and Sirius stepped in so Remus and I went with them to help, so we could make sure they didn't get hurt," Peter reasoned, throwing the onus on his friends, as if he'd never done anything of worth on his own. Dumbledore had always felt sorry for the small child, always overshadowed by his friends. He wondered if Peter would know what to be if he found himself without them.

"Admirable, certainly. Though you know, of course, the correct course of action would have been to alert a teacher," he told them. He watched as James sat up straighter, almost lifting himself completely off his seat in his adamancy that he and his friends had been right.

"And what would have happened in the time it took us to find one? Surely, we would have been as responsible for any injuries caused as the Slytherins," he reasoned.

"Silence perpetuates hatred. The only way to stand against something is to actually take a stand," Sirius added, his grey eyes turning to steel as he eyed the old man, as if challenging him to argue against him.

"A very well-made point, Mr Black," Dumbledore said, and took a pause before he asked his next question. "And what, I wonder, do you four wish to take a stand against?"

"The war," James answered quickly.

"Death Eaters," Peter said.

"Injustice," Remus added, with pain in his eyes.

"Voldemort," came Sirius' response.

"I was hoping we would agree on that one," Dumbledore smiled. He picked up the large bowl that occupied the corner of his desk. "Sherbert lemon?"

James and Remus took one, while Peter and Sirius politely refused.

"Have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?" Dumbledore asked, lightly, as he gazed at the Gryffindors.

"No," James answered, as his friends shook their heads.

"Not many people have, but I think you'll all be interested," he said, before beginning his explanation.


	3. Lest We Forget - Rufus

**A/N: This chapter aims to show Rufus as a man trying to make the best of a bad situation, whilst still maintaining friendships and never loosing his determination.**

 **Warning for profanity.**

 **Special mention to the show, The Thick of It, which may have influenced this chapter, and Rufus' character, somewhat.**

 **This whole collection was written for the _In Tribute to the Fallen_ competition at _Diagon Alley II_.**

 **This one-shot was also written for the _Huge TV Show Quotes Bucket_ , for the prompt: "The game is rigged. The villains never win." - Cruella, _Once Upon a Time_**

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 **Rufus Scrimgeour: Minister of Magic**

Rufus waved his wand at the candle on his desk, wordlessly lighting its wick. He looked around his office with a smile; it was so much bigger than his last office in the Auror Department, and even that one had been positively luxurious.

His smile faded as his stomach rumbled, and he bent his head back down over the parchment on his mahogony desk, the leather of his chair squeaking as he adjusted his position. He'd barely been on the job a week, and already he was spending more time here than at home. If he could just get this piece finished, he'd be able to go home content.

A knock at the door startled the Minister out of his train of thought as he sat up. He frowned a little, his eyebrows knitting together. He thought he was the only idiot who stayed past seven o'clock.

"Come in," his gruff voice called, and the door handled turned. Gawain Robards allowed himself entry, his blonde hair ruffled and unkempt. Robards was an old friend of Scrimgeour, and had succeeded him to the Head of the Auror Office after Scrimgeour's promotion.

"A little late to be pouring over new Decrees, isn't it?" Robards asked. He pulled his lips into a smile even as his eyes clouded over in distress.

"Terribly, yes, but the whole bloody place is in ruins, Robards. What the bloody hell did Fudge spend his days doing?" Scrimgeour exclaimed with a sigh. He was weary of his position already, but his dedication was almost unrivalled.

"I hear the tea parties and old boys' clubs can be very distracting," Robards joked dryly.

"Well, now's not the time for bloody parties," Scrimgeour replied. "There a holes in just about everything the old fool ever did, and the Prophet's hounding the doors, demanding action. They seem to think we can pass all these laws overnight that'll fix everything. No one gives a shit about all the hoops we have to jump through for the sake of bloody governance and audit trails."

"You sound tired, old friend. Perhaps a whiskey at The Leaky Cauldron would lighten your mood?" Robards asked, tempting his friend with a half-hour of peace.

"Not at the Cauldron, too many bloody eyes in that place. I'd rather not be branded an alcoholic if I can help it," Scrimgeour retorted.

"Merlin, we're right in the thick of it, aren't we, Scrimgeour?" Robard asked, shaking his head.

"Big time, Robard. We'll need a miracle to pull this one off. The closest thing to a solution I have is to pull the wool over everyone's eyes with pretty lies and a clean image while we try and clean up the bastard's mess," Scrimgeour explained, with a dour look.

"And how long will the clean-up take?" Robard asked, wrinkles appearing on his brow.

"Depends on how much push-back we get from the pen-pushers. Months? Years? Merlin knows. I guess it's a saving grace that the game is rigged. The villains never win."

"Don't underestimate them," Robard warned.

"Oh I don't, old friend, but I have every faith in you. I just need to keep the old man on our side, and we'll be golden," Scrimgeour replied, smiling through his confidence.

"Dumbledore?" Robard asked, and Scrimgeour nodded. "You have an answer to everything, don't you?"

"I certainly try to. Isn't that the life of a politician? Tell them what you know and make it up when you don't, eh?" Scrimgeour asked, a wry smile clouding his face as he looked at his old friend.

Robard laughed, and there was a brief pause in the conversation.

"Well if not the Cauldron, there's a bottle of '78 Islay Malt in my drinks' cabinet waiting to be opened if you fancy a tipple?" he asked, and Scrimgeour sighed, looking back at his parchment.

"I suppose this old thing can wait for the sake of a friend," he commented, and stood to take his coat from its stand, following Robard to the fireplace.


	4. Lest We Forget - Sirius

**A/N: While this is about all four of the Marauders, the focus is on Sirius, as he was in his prime: fiercely loyal, a little hot-headed, quick to act and a prankster as much as he was a defender of justice.**

* * *

 **Sirius Black: Marauder**

The corridor was alive with activity in the raucous between classes as the four Marauders made their way to Transfiguration. Severus Snape was walking a little ahead of them, greasy hair hanging limply as he whispered with his friends. While James had his back turned to catch a glimpse of a certain red-headed witch, Sirius' eyes lit up with a grin while he pulled out his wand.

Wordlessly, he sent a _Locomotor Mortis_ flying towards the slimy Slytherin, and burst out in a fit of laughter as their classmate fell face first to the floor. James turned, made curious by the commotion, and grinned while he patted his old friend on the back.

"Nice one, Padfoot, very well done," he said, while Peter laughed along with them. Remus merely looked up and shook his head with a roll of his eyes, though he could not deny the tug at the corners of his mouth.

Snape stood and brushed himself off before marching over to the Gryffindors, temper bubbling over as he drew his wand.

"You'll pay for that, Black!" he spat, eyes bulging in his embarrassment.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do? Wipe your nose on me?" Sirius taunted, causing the usual palour of the boy's face to turn a little red in anger as a vein throbbed in his neck.

"Or you could shake like a dog to loosen some of that grease in your hair on us!" James suggested, causing the four boys to laugh as if they were in on a joke that Severus didn't understand.

Severus took a deep breath in, ready to loosen a string of obscenities at the four boys in his hatred of them.

"Severus, leave it," came a soft voice from behind the Marauders, and they all turned to see none other than Lily Evans interrupting the fierce battle of testosterone. On sight of her, Severus swallowed his words and stormed off back to his friends in a silent rage.

"Evans, nice of you to join us!" James commented with a grin, unable to stop himself.

"Oh, bugger off, you conceited halfwit!" she shouted, immediately annoyed by his presence. She stalked off, red curls bouncing with her steps.

"Well, that went well," James shrugged before continuing the walk. His friends followed, Sirius turning to him with a lazy smile.

"She'll come around eventually, Prongs," he consoled his friend.

When they rounded the next corner, however, their smiles faded. Mulciber, tall and imposing with hair as black as night, was rounding on Mary McDonald, the happy-go-lucky, heart on her sleeve Gryffindor. Sirius immediately felt the hackles rise on his neck, and was glad he hadn't pocketed his wand just yet.

"Watch where you're damn well going, you filthy Mudblood!" he said, standing over her with his wand inches from her face, sparking. He had her backed against the wall and despite the stubborn look on her face, the way she leaned away from him betrayed her fear.

Sirius came up behind him slowly, keeping out of his line of sight, and pressed the tip of his wand into the larger boy's back.

"You should watch who you pick on," Sirius retorted, his voice dark as his eyes set, as if a storm was brewing in their depths.

"You don't scare me, blood traitor," the older boy retaliated, turning to face Sirius as his attention on Mary faded. He had a new enemy now.

"Then I'd suggest you're afraid of the wrong people." Mulciber's eyes were fixed on Sirius as he sneered. As James stepped forward a little, he moved his gaze a little to take in the scene before him. Three wands were behind Sirius', trained on Mulciber with concentration and loathing in the eyes of their holders. Mulciber was alone, his friends not behind him to back him up. This was not a fight he would win.

"What in Merlin's name is going on here?" came a shrill voice down the corridor, as loud, precise footsteps echoed nearer. Sirius didn't need to turn his head to know it was McGonagall.

"Mulciber was threatening Mary, Professor. We were politely suggesting he ought to move along," Sirius explained, his eyes never leaving Mulciber for a second. Mary nodded at McGonagall from her corner behind Mulciber.

"Twenty points from Slytherin _and_ Gryffindor for disruption in the hallways. Mr Mulciber, on your way," she snipped. Mulciber threw the Marauders a black look before heading towards his classroom.

McGonagall turned to the four boys as they turned to her, hiding their wands as quickly as they had been drawn.

"Ten points to each of you for displaying courage and loyalty towards your fellow Gryffindor. Only, if there happens to be a next time, try _not_ drawing your wands," she remarked, the hint of a smile dancing across her face as she turned and left them.

"Well, that's alright," James grinned, and Sirius mirrored his friend's expression.


	5. Lest We Forget - Ted

**Ted Tonks: Father**

As a child, Ted wore a smile and wide eyes with his heart on his sleeve. His childhood had been happy, for the most part, filled with a mother's love and quiet Christmases. Even at Hogwarts, the optimism that had characterised his younger years stayed with him, even as the darkness began to loom on the horizon. It was there he met Andy, a girl, then, intoxicated by his smile and jealous of his freedom. Her childhood had been categorised by limitations and complexity as much as his had been carefree and easy. She envigorated him while he excited her with promises of a life undreamt of.

When the words, "I love you," had first been whispered, it was by a warm summer's sunset with the taste of a sweet French wine fresh on their lips. It was when promises were easy to make, when happiness was in the air and the future was a distant thought until the morning. When that morning came, their love was no less pronounced. Andy was seventeen when she made the most important decision of her life, and nineteen when she made it known.

The fall out with her family was to be expected, but it was heartbreaking, all the same. Andy had accepted that it would happen, logically there was no other conclusion. Still, when her sister slammed the door in her face for the last time, the ricochet shattered through her walls, breaking her soul into more pieces than she'd realised was possible. Ted did the only thing he could as he bent down beside her crumpled form to pick up the parts, helping her put them back together a little more each day. The cracks always showed, but it was through the cracks that the brilliant light of her being shone.

Marriage came first, as it often did. A small winter gathering with their friends and his family. They tried not to make the absence of her relatives too obvious, both so that no questions were asked and Andy was able to enjoy the day. The news of a child came next. Andy told him one autumn afternoon, and the happy man was suddenly ecstatic. He'd loved Andy with all of his heart, and worried that a child could come between them. When he looked into the blue eyes of his newborn daughter, and she looked back at him, he saw that his worries were unfounded. Rather than take away from the love he already had for his wife, the little girl merely caused his heart to swell wide and grow fat with affection for his family.

By the time Nymphadora was one, the couple had come to understand how much of a blessing it was that there was two of them. It didn't matter how little she slept during the night, she still required constant vigilance throughout the day. It was late afternoon after the third bad night in a row, and as Andy yawned for the hundredth time that day beside him, Ted reached out and placed an arm around her with a sigh. Nymphadora had caught a cold, and they had guessed from the amount of screaming she was doing that she wasn't particularly enjoying it.

"You're exhausted, love, he told his wife, concern creeping into the lines around his eyes.

"I know, but I'll be fine," Andy brushed off his concern with her characteristic pride.

"You'll make yourself ill if you keep on like this, go and have a lie down," he told his wife softly.

"But Nymphadora-"

"Is my daughter, too," he cut in with a smile. "Go on, I'll wake you up at four."

Andy glanced at the clock, as if to check how far off that was. Stifling another yawn, she nodded.

"Okay, thank you. Wake me if you need anything, or if she gets worse," she asked of him as she began to stand.

"Or if anything that could possible be conceived as a negative thing chances to happen. I know, I will," he smiled at her, and she smiled back, knowing how protective her motherly love could be.

Despite the little girl's ability to alter her appearance with very little effort, this was rare at her current age, and her most common appearance was how she looked now, with the light brown hair and dark eyes of her mother.

Ted loved that she looked like her mother. It meant that when he looked into the little girl's eyes, he saw his whole life shining back at him, his wife and daughter. She was smiling at him now, gargling away as she wriggled in his arms. He was glad the potion they'd been given by the Healers worked, at least for a few hours They'd been told she would be better by tomorrow, and they were relieved.

Her face began to scrunch up, wrinkles appearing in her smooth skin and Ted's eyebrows darted together in concern. Was something wrong? When she sneezed, Ted jumped back a little in surprise and then smiled. The little girl's appearance had changed with the sneeze, and she now looked up at him with green eyes, his eyes, while her hair had taken on the dark blonde of the Tonks family. As much as he loved that Nymphadora took after Andy, he couldn't deny right now that he was looking into the face of _his_ daughter.


	6. Lest We Forget - Remus

**Remus Lupin: Family Man**

"Lycanthropy is an endless corridor, and most of the doors are locked," Remus said, his shoulders slumped as he stared at the floor.

"And who's shutting that door, Remus?" asked Tonks, imploring him to see things from a different perspective, just this once.

They were sat in the living room of their new home on a Sunday afternoon. It wasn't much of a home, but it was theirs, and that was what mattered.

"Don't talk about it as if you understand," Remus replied. The hand she had been holding his with drew back, recoiling at his bitterness as if it hurt. "I'm sorry," he continued, pressing his eyes closed. "It's just hard to have hope anymore. I've been evicted too many times, coming home to find my things on the street. I've been thrown out of offices in the middle of the day. There's only so much of that I can take," he explained, fighting back tears.

The hurt expression on Tonk's face did not fade. "Do I not give you hope?" she asked softly.

Remus looked up at her, shocked that she would ask such a question, but when he saw the genuine hardness in her eyes, his face soften. He leant in to place a desperate kiss in her lips, trying to tell her of the long, cold, lonely years he'd had before she'd came along with a happiness he'd begun to think was just a dream.

"What I meant, Remus, was that..." Tonks sighed before continuing. "When you thought there was no hope for me and you, when you were blind to what was going on between us, who kept the key to that door locked?"

"Me, I know, I did it on purpose," he said, turning to look away from her. For some reason, she'd chosen that day to question him, and he didn't understand what she wanted to know, or why. she knew his affliction was, in his opinion, the very worst part of him. He didn't want to talk about it. Why was she making him?

"Why?" she asked, searching his eyes for the answer.

"Because I wanted to keep you safe. I'm not safe to be around. To be with. You deserve a chance at life, and people like me… we don't get chances very often," he told her.

"That's not your decision to make for me," Tonks said, her voice soft but her expression firm. "And anyway, _you_ aren't dangerous in the slightest."

Tonks smiled, and Remus couldn't help but smile back.

"But I need to tell you something," she continued, and Remus turned his head towards her at a tilt, curious. "I'm pregnant."

She smiled as she said it, but her smile faded as she saw the shock settle on his face. Remus' cheeks drained of all colour as he sat, the room beginning to spin around him. He stood slowly, as if making a decision, and without warning, he ran.

He didn't know where he was going, and he didn't really understand why, but he knew he had to go somewhere. He had to get away. Guilt washed over him the moment the front door shut behind him, but he would not turn back. Didn't she see what they'd just condemned another life to? And a life not yet even begun…

Remus went back to his old house for a few days, but it was not in a fit state anymore. It had been empty for too long, since the Order had reformed and he'd lived at Grimmauld Place. And so within a week, he was on his way back to the Noble House of Black. He didn't remember Grimmauld Place as ever being so dreary and quiet. He didn't remember all the tokens left around the house by Sirius. The coffee cup, the toothbrush - the ultimate aftermath of the war, death, was all around this old terrace.

This was the state he was in when Harry found him. He'd been in and out of the house on Order work, but called it home when he had time to stick around. He didn't know what he'd expected Harry to say, but what came his way left him ashamed.

He'd been a fool.

Even if the unborn child was like him, it would be safer by his side than in the hands of a cold Healer who didn't know or understand. That evening, he went to bed feeling sick to his stomach, and couldn't sleep.

The following morning, he found himself stood in the front garden of the house he'd shared with Tonks, staring at the door. Tentatively, he stepped forward, swallowing his fear, and knocked at the door. When she answered, her usual bubblegum pink hair was a dark black. She was angry, and upset, and it was his fault.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling utterly pathetic. She cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "I… I don't know what to say. I love you, and I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry."

"Am I supposed to let you back in now?" she asked.

"I don't know. I don't think I deserve it, but… I wanted you to know that I see it now. I made a mistake."

Remus stared at her like a man defeated, and her face began to soften. She knew him. She understood him - more than he thought she did.

"Come inside," she told him, and he let out a sigh of relief as he obliged. "We need to talk."

* * *

The day outside was dreary, but that didn't affect the scene inside St Mungo's. A baby, minutes old, lay in the arms of a young woman, glowing with pride and love. A slightly dishevelled man was sat beside her, his arm around them both as he grinned down at the little boy. That was how Andromeda Tonks found them when she arrived to welcome the newborn.

Looking down at that little boy, she could see that the thin down on his head was a light shade of turquoise, as if to announce to the world that he was her daughter's son.

"Mum," Tonks said with a wide smile by way of a greeting. "We've decided. We're calling him Edward Lupin. Teddy."

* * *

 **Words: 1040**

 **A/N: I know this might seem like a strange story to tell when honouring Remus at his best, but for me this shows all the characteristics we love him for: his courage and morality, his loyalty, and his absolute conviction towards doing the right thing. He might have made a mistake, but he had the best interests of others at the centre of that decision. Anyway, I hope you liked it!**


	7. Lest We Forget - Dobby

This story was also written for the All About You Challenge, for the astrological sign Taurus, which came with the prompts: stubborn, loyal, persistent, dependable and possessive.

* * *

 **Dobby: Free Elf**

The Headmaster sat at his desk, his arms folded in front of him, as he cast his sparkling blue eyes over the pair stood across from him. They had refused the offered seats; Dumbledore wondered if the two were even tall enough to reach them, anyway. The elves had said they preferred to stand, and so now they stood while Dumbledore waited for them to speak.

"Dobby and Winky come here as free elves," Dobby said, nodding enthusiastically as he did so. Winky cringed at the word 'free', as if to hear it hurt.

"I can see that," Dumbledore smiled. "That is a wonderful sock."

"Thank you, very much, Sir Dumbledore! Dobby is very proud of it!" he replied, causing Winky to flinch away from her friend.

"And what is it the two of you want, as free elves?" Dumbledore asked.

"Dobby and Winky cane to ask Professor Dumbledore for jobs, Sir," Dobby explained. Winky stared at the floor, and remained silent. It seemed she wasn't as enthused by the prospect, and didn't want to ask for this for herself.

"Well, that sounds very reasonable," Dumbledore commented. "There's certainly a lot of work to be done around Hogwarts."

His blue eyes twinkled as Dobby's widened, hope and anticipation mixing so brightly in his expression. Even Winky looked up at this, hopeful that there was still a use for her somewhere.

"I could offer you twenty galleons a week for your fine service," Dumbledore suggested with a smile.

"Oh, no, Professor Dumbledore, Sir! What would Dobby do with all that? No, sir, Dobby and Winky don't want all that much!" Dobby protested, waving his hands in front of him whilst bowing so low his nose brushed the floor. It seemed he still held on to what he knew, and did not want to cause undue offence.

"Well then, how much would you prefer?" Dumbledore asked.

Dobby looked at Winky, but she only shook her head. She wanted nothing.

"Five galleons, Sir. Dobby thinks five galleons would be more moneys than he knows what to do with! But Dobby could buy birthday presents for Mister Harry and his friends!" Dobby announced, and the wide, toothy grin on his face gave away his utter excitement.

Dumbledore could see that Winky didn't think her situation had improved, but he had hope that she would find her home at Hogwarts.

* * *

It would not be long before Dumbledore's hope would prove ill-founded. Dobby found that while he and Winky were accepted easily enough by the other House Elves, they were treated somewhat differently, as if the other Elves thought that Dobby and Winky pictured themselves on a pedestal. That was not what Winky had wanted. Dobby knew her very well, and he knew she didn't even want the money, or the clothes. She certainly didn't want to be different.

She did her job, but Dobby knew that something was wrong. Her once glowing pride no longer seemed to exist. She talked to the others, but Dobby couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her smile or heard her laughter. It was as if she felt worthless. Dobby watched her with a deep sadness. He didn't know how to tell Winky his thoughts on the matter. He didn't know how to tell her that she could be both proud and free.

Whenever he tried to talk to her, which was quite often, he soon saw how she changed the subject or ignored him when he spoke of freedom and wages. She wouldn't admit it to herself, like she was trying to ignore it. No, it was like she was trying to forget. Dobby wasn't sure what she wanted to forget the most - the fact that she was free or the fact that she cared.

Dobby watched her as she turned to Butterbeer to drown her woes. He knew it wasn't the drink of choice for many humans, but Elves were small with little tolerance for things. He watched how little it took to render Winky a different Elf.

"It's the best Winky can hope for in her current… situation!" she had slurred one evening as Dobby called her out on her behaviour. At least she only drank in the evenings, Dobby conceded. While he saw her rubbing at her temples and acting sluggish in the mornings, she was still able to carry out her work in the kitchens, so he didn't think it could be that bad.

And for the first few weeks, it stayed that way. Dobby, dependable as he was, sat with her in the evenings as she drank herself into a stupor, a caring anxiety clouding his mind, but he didn't worry too much. Not until he noticed that the single pint she was used to having wasn't affecting her the way it used to. He didn't worry too much until she began drinking more. She more or less gave up on food over the coming weeks, and she began to avoid Dobby's eye and the pitying looks she would find there. Dobby thought she had given up on life, and now only sought to survive. Soon, he found her drinking Butterbeer before breakfast, and it wasn't long before she gave up on breakfast entirely in favour of the drink.

Dobby knew a lot of things, some of which he wasn't supposed to know, but what he didn't know was how to help his friend. He did what he could, of course, loyal as he was. He took responsibility for unlit, dirty fireplaces and finding excuses for unwashed sheets, but he knew he needed a solution. He tried to reason with her, to explain, but Winky no longer even reacted. Completely at a loose end, and stubborn in his belief that he could help her, Dobby found himself stood in Dumbledore's office once more.

"What brings you here, Master Dobby?" the headmaster asked from his seat behind the desk.

"It's Winky, Professor Dumbledore, Sir," Dobby began, his soulful eyes wide in sadness. He resisted the urge to bang his head against the desk, knowing what he was about to do could be betraying a friend. "She's not happy, Sir. Winky doesn't like being a free Elf, and Dobby doesn't know what to do!"

The headmaster sighed. "Happiness is a choice, Dobby. She must choose to be content here," Dumbledore reasoned.

"But Winky hasn't, Sir! Winky gets worse and worse! She…" Before Dobby finished his sentence, he leant forward with a great force and crashed his forehead into the desk - just once, he was learning. "Please forgive Dobby! Winky drinks Butterbeer, Sir! She drinks more and more and Dobby is worried for her!"

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "Dobby, would you be ever so kind as to bring Winky here to see me?"

"Will Winky lose her job, Sir?" Dobby asked, nervous.

"Oh, I don't think that would be what's best for her, do you?" Dumbledore asked.

Dobby shook his head, rather violently, and stood to leave.

* * *

When Dobby found Winky, she was swaying slightly where she stood as she polished a trophy. He knew she would not come easily, and he would have to be persistent.

"Winky, Professor Dumbledore wants to see you," he told her.

"Winky is polishing this trophy," she said, not even looking up at him.

"Please come with Dobby, Winky, Dumbledore has very important things to say!" Dobby argued.

"Why does Dumbledore want to see Winky?" Winky asked, suspicious.

"I don't know what he wants to say," Dobby conceded, then regretted his words as Winky's face clouded in horror.

"Dumbledore wants to get rid of Winky. Winky isn't even wanted at Hogwarts!" Winky began, imagining the only fate she thought worse than what she now endured.

"No, Dumbledore promised that Winky would not leave, he wants something else," Dobby reassured her. "And Dobby would not let Winky leave alone! Dobby would go with Winky, Dobby would stay with his friend."

As Dobby pulled Winky into an awkward hug, she smiled a lit and relented. He Apparated them to Dumbledore's office together.

"Ah, you're here," Dumbledore said cheerfully as they arrived. "Dobby, if you wouldn't mind just stepping outside for a moment."

Dobby froze, suddenly not wanting to leave. His affection for her, which bordered on to possessiveness, left him feeling vulnerable without her. His life had revolved around her for so long, he didn't want to leave. But he trusted Dumbledore, and so warily he stepped outside.

And he waited. He didn't think he'd ever waited so long in his life, pacing up and down the stairs, listening at the door for a hint of what was coming. When the handle finally turned and Winky stepped out, he was by her side in an instant.

"Dobby, Winky won't be helping you in the Greenhouses tomorrow, Winky has a special job to do!" she said, and smiled at him.

Dobby felt his heart melt. There was his old friend, on her way back to him.

"And what is this special job?" he asked her.

"Filing!" she replied. "It's really important and Dumbledore trusts me! I've never done filing before!"

As Winky rattled on about why it was so important, Dobby knew that she had just taken the first steps on the road to recovery. She felt needed once more, and soon, she would feel proud again. Dobby didn't know how he would ever thank Professor Dumbledore.


End file.
